A Sunday Kind of Love
by SunshineInSpring
Summary: Set Early-To-Mid Season 5. Mondler, naturally. "It was true that Monica had loved boyfriends in the past, as she knew Chandler had loved Kathy, and Janice (though he may vehemently deny that now), Pete and Richard being those who she had loved the most. But this, with Chandler, was a love to last all her life (and she couldn't wait to live it with him)"


**A/N: Helloo! Back! Thank you all so much for all the love and support you've all given me in your reviews on the fanfics I've posted here on this site. It really means so much that you've taken the time to read, and hopefully enjoy my work, and each review really makes my day! Alright, so this is a different kind of fic to the ones I usually write- its shorter, and set early to mid season 5- so Mondler are together, but no-one except Joey knows yet. It's retrospective, and really quite indulgent in fluff from my part- sorry! Just had to get it out of my system I suppose! Anyway, enjoy! As per usual, I own nothing, including this times song; A Sunday Kind of Love, as usual by the incredible Ella Fitzgerald. Enjoy!**

 **A Sunday Kind of Love**

A faint glow streamed in through the slight part in the curtains, illuminating the couple curled up in the bed together. The man lay on his back, arms wrapped tightly around the woman, whose brunette head was pillowed on his chest, rising and falling gently with each breath he took.

Chandler was still asleep, Monica presumed; it was, after all, five in the morning, according to the green luminescent numbers blinking at her from the clock on his bedside table, as she strained her eyes to make out the numbers it showed. Just one more hour, then she'd have to sneak back across to her own apartment so as not to alert the rest of their (incredibly nosy, it had to be said) friends of her and Chandler's relationship.

Monica smiled, as the memories of their five, amazing months together rushed over her, warming her from the inside. Combined with Chandler's surprisingly strong arms holding her close, Monica felt safer than she could ever remember having felt. She wasn't usually this mushy first thing in the morning- hell ever, but there was something about the way the light filtered in weakly through the gap in the curtains, playing across Chandler's face, highlighting his features. He pulled her closer in his sleep, and Monica smiled softly, adjusting herself accordingly. She remembered a few short years ago, when he'd been so put off by the idea of cuddling that he'd actually dumped Janice over the edge of the bed, injuring her in the process. It'd been Ross's infamous move, but still. Monica laughed slightly, remembering the grudge Rachel had borne for weeks after she'd found out that Ross wasn't as keen on snuggling as her; the cold shoulder had certainly been used to good effect!

Monica had, as a result, been very careful not to cuddle too close to Chandler on a night after they first got together- not wanting to put him in a position he wasn't exactly comfortable with, nor wanting a trip to hospital with a broken wrist of her own. She was surprised, then, that it was of his own volition that they so often woke up like this- him pulling her close to him as they slept. She'd not asked him about the reasoning behind this- not wanting to embarrass him, but had enjoyed it nevertheless.

She knew, without question, that this was a relationship, a man that she was more invested in than ever before. Even Richard hadn't made her feel as safe, as loved, as Chandler had, (even if Chandler's one admission of that fact had been immediately retracted due to immense fear).

It hadn't been the first time Monica had considered the idea of the warm feeling inside her whenever she looked at Chandler to be love- she'd been in love before, and knew something of what it felt like. Not as strongly as this- it had surprised her to feel the wave of emotion towards Chandler so early on in their relationship; previous friendship aside, the feelings she had for the man had scared her a little in their intensity.

No; that Thanksgiving had been the first time that she had ever considered he may truly feel the same as her. The retraction of the admittance didn't matter- he had said it. He meant it- even if he was too scared to tell her. That was enough to chase away lingering doubts.

He'd told his previous girlfriends that he loved them. That was a fact. Yes- none of them had worked out, Monica remembered the agony he'd been left with when they'd cheated on him, or dumped him- but the fact remained that he'd told them. It had hurt, actually, for a while, the thought that he mightn't feel that way about her, until she realised that she hadn't given him any concrete evidence of her feelings on the matter either, the intensity of those feelings being of such a magnitude that she hadn't before thought possible.

The thought had struck one afternoon, with such clarity that it felt like seeing clearly for the first time. She'd spent weeks agonising over the fact- afraid to mention how she felt, for fear he didn't feel the same way, that she hadn't considered that perhaps he was just as overwhelmed as her. More-so, probably, if his constant rants in the previous year about his fear of commitment were anything to go by. He'd bared his soul before to women, only to have it flung back in his face. It really shouldn't have surprised her that he was unsure about admitting how he felt. It was understandable. It wasn't as though it was their first time feeling love, previous partners had invoked those emotions in them, it was simply the first time that love had felt too small a word.

With Richard, Monica had been permanently on guard; it had been love, yes, but a love filled with constantly ensuring that she was presenting the best, least neurotic side of herself. It was ironic, in a way, that it had been the part of herself, her personality, that she was most attached to, then, her dreams, that had caused the end of her and Richard's relationship, rather than her obsessive habits, or neurotic behaviour. Her dreams of a family; of children and a husband which had left her empty handed, empty hearted with neither.

Pete- well. Pete had been different. It was an unsteady kind of love. It was hardly surprising that a man as exceptional and impulsive and, yes, occasionally strange, as Pete had been unable to give her the stability that she craved. The love she needed. No- he had been surprised that she might love him enough that she didn't want to see him hurt. That had told her all she had needed to know. He had loved her in his own way, but, in the end, it hadn't been enough. She had been left empty-handed, empty-hearted once more.

It was odd, then, though definitely not unpleasant, that the only relationship that she had ever felt so safe, so secure in, was the only one where she hadn't told her boyfriend how much she loved him. And, oh. Monica loved Chandler with her whole, entire being, every single fibre, at an intensity at which she had not known it was even possible to love another person at.

With him, she wasn't terrified of revealing a flaw, as he had known them all for years as her friend, and whilst he subjected her to gentle teasing for them, she had never feared that he would desert her for her flaws, never once been afraid of revealing an imperfection. He knew her dreams too, and whilst he thought he feared committing, she knew now, if just from the protective curl of his arm around her whilst he slept, that he felt the same as she. He had been hurt by love simply too many times to openly admit it just yet.

But not this love.

No, theirs was a love of safety and comfort. Of passion, yes, certainly (Monica smirked at the memory of their first night together in London- seven times!), but also of tender hugs, gentle touches, late night conversations. It was a love based on friendship, on peace and harmony. A Sunday kind of love. And, as the sunlight grew slightly stronger, casting long shadows about the room, and dancing across Chandler's chest, upon which Monica's head still rested, she knew that she couldn't wait for Chandler to say those words once more. She would let him take the lead- that she had decided months ago- to take things at his pace, to let him set the speed. They were getting close, that she was certain of, to a time when they would reveal their relationship to the rest of their friends. After all, Joey had figured it out just days before, and if Joey knew, well. The man had never been renowned for keeping secrets for long.

It was true that Monica had loved boyfriends in the past, as she knew Chandler had loved Kathy, and Janice (though he may vehemently deny that now), Pete and Richard being those who she had loved the most. But this, with Chandler, was a love to last all her life (and she couldn't wait to live it with him), a love she'd spent most of her adult life searching for, which she had found, against all the odds, with the man across the hall. A Sunday kind of love.

 **A/N: There we go! As I said, its shorter than the others, but hopefully you enjoyed it nevertheless! I was always slightly confused by how big a deal Chandler's commitment phobia was made- along with the first 'I love you's' between Mondler, when we watched them say it long before to previous partners. Hopefully this was some kind of explanation? I am working on a slightly longer fic, spanning a couple of years, but that's a work in progress at this stage, so expect a couple more oneshots before that happens! Anyway, thank you for reading, let me know what you thought in a review, and if you have any requests/prompts, let me know too! I'm always looking for inspiration. Until next time!**


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